


LAlba

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder, Krycek, nudity, sex, angst, and an obscure literary reference.





	LAlba

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

L'Alba by Merri-Todd Webster

L'Alba (M/K, 1/1, NC-17)  
DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Krycek do not belong to me, however you want to look at it, but to each other and/or Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and the almighty Fox. I just give them a sandbox to play in.  
Yes, folks, I've finally done it. Here it is, an M/K undiluted and unmitigated. No Scully, no Skinner, nobody else. Just two guys, some nudity, sex, conversation, and... angst. With a little literary obscurity thrown in. The sex might only be at the "R" level, but I thought I'd give it NC-17 just in case.

* * *

*********************  
L'Alba  
by Merri-Todd Webster  
<>  
*********************

Bel companh¢, eissetz al fenestrel,  
 E regardatz las estelas del cel;  
 Connoisseretz si.us sui fizels messatge:  
 Si non o faitz, vostres n'er lo damnatge,   
 Et ades ser l'alba.

       Fine companion, go to the window  
       And look at the stars in the sky;  
       You will know if I am your faithful messenger  
       If you don't do this, yours will be the harm,  
       And soon it will be dawn. 

\--from "Reis Glorios"  
by Giraut de Bornelh  
(c. 1165-1210)

*********

The radio woke Alex Krycek with a burst of static and then the sound of a large chorus dominated by deep-chested basses. He recognized it as something from Rachmaninov's Vespers, a hell of a thing to play at this hour of the morning. But then, judging by the deep darkness outside the hotel room's window, it could well be six p.m., not six a.m.. Both hours looked the same in early December.

Beside him, Fox Mulder stirred, mumbled, groped with a long hand for the clock. The hand silenced the chesty Russian chorus, and then began to push back the covers. Alex caught and kissed it.

"We don't have to get up yet, Mulder."

"Yes, we do." Mulder yawned, pulling his hand slowly out of Alex's grasp as he stretched. "I do. I have to catch a plane back to DC and meet Skinner before lunchtime. I have to get up and get out of here before too long."

"It's not even light yet." Alex burrowed closer to his lover, kissed Mulder's chest. "The birds aren't singing. How do you know it's morning?"

Mulder sat up and fluffed his squashed hair, a weird elongated shape in the dimness. "The birds aren't singing because it's winter, and I know it's morning because the clock says so. What's with you, Alex?"

Alex rolled over onto his back, looking away from Mulder to the mirror over the bureau. It reflected the sleepless light of New York City, the light that never quite went out, never quite let one rest. "I haven't seen you for three months. We've had two nights together in not one of New York's better hotels. You're going back to DC in a few hours, back to Scully and Skinner and--why am I trying to explain this?" He got up, rolling awkwardly to compensate for the absence of one hand, and made for the bathroom.

As soon as he'd flushed, Mulder opened the bathroom door. He wrapped an arm loosely around Alex's shoulders, standing close enough that Alex could feel his warmth, smell sleep and sex on Mulder's skin. "I wish it didn't have to be like this."

"Some choices can't be unmade."

"You could get out--"

"No, Mulder." Alex spoke more strongly. "We've been over this before. There's no way out. Only through. We've got to get through whatever's coming, you on your side and me on mine."

Mulder looked softly, broodingly, at the younger man, then stroked his chest lightly. "Come back to bed, then. We have time. We'll make time. Now."

Alex took his lover's hand and let himself be led back to the bed. A very very faint hint of something that wasn't New York's night glow had begun to come in through the windows. He lay down on top of the covers and let Mulder's hands smooth down his body, over his lips, his collarbone, the scarred remnant of his left arm, his left nipple, his belly, his pubic hair, his right thigh. Soft touches, exploring him in the darkness, exciting the smell of his arousal. It didn't take much to arouse either one of them, perhaps because they were so rarely together, perhaps for some other reason. He looped his arm around the other man's neck and opened his mouth for the kiss he'd been craving since he woke up, Mulder's lips kneading his own, their tongues slippery with desire. He wanted to hold his lover and touch him at the same time, stroke the erect cock he could feel pressing against his thigh, but he couldn't; he could only do one or the other. He never missed his lost limb more than in these moments when he wanted and needed to give something, and couldn't.

"Mulder--"

"Shhh--" against his lips. Lips against his throat. He let go of Mulder and ran his fingers through the soft, plain brown hair, pressing them in at the base of the skull. Mulder's hand was on his thigh, and Mulder's mouth was circling around his right nipple, drifting through the sparse hair and avoiding the already stiff nub of flesh. Alex resisted the urge to grab Mulder's head and yank it so his mouth was right there, where he wanted it; it was better to wait, to let Mulder do his thing. Mulder was very good at it. His hand wandered around the older man's body, coming to each part as if to some new island never found before, shoulder, rib cage, spine, buttock, cock. Mulder groaned softly onto Alex's nipple as the man's hand found him hard and slick. He nipped the brown nipple he'd been licking and turned his head to suck on its twin.

"Mulder, let me--"

Mulder rolled over and Alex followed, sliding across the other man and bumping their erections together as he did so. It still hurt to lean on the stump, it probably always would, but he was alive and Mulder was slipping his arm underneath Alex's side, supporting him, taking some of the pressure off the mutilated arm. Mulder's fingers wrapped around Alex's cock, tightening as Alex kissed first one cheek and then the other, those perfect hollows underneath the high cheekbones, and then bit gently at his lower lip before heading southward. Alex licked hard at Mulder's nipples, covering the space between them as well, while softly and steadily stroking the wet shaft in his hand, and Mulder whimpered beautifully and didn't so much stroke Alex in return as hang onto his cock for dear life.

"You are gorgeous, Mulder, yeah, really," he flicked his tongue into Mulder's navel, "and those little sounds you make, oh, especially that one, they make me want everything, Mulder, everything...." Grunting, he shifted position to put his mouth on Mulder's cock, pressing the resilient head between his lips, slurping along the underside.

"Alex--!"

Mulder pushed him off and over and settled between his thighs to return the favor. It was getting brighter in the small room, but it was still not light enough to really see Mulder's face. One of the perks of getting head from Mulder was watching him--watching those elastic lips making very small subtle movements, seeing those cheekbones stand out as he sucked hard. Alex strained his eyes through the grey half-light and finally gave up, letting his head fall back on the pillow as Mulder deep-throated him with patient steadiness.

"Mulder, Mulder, why won't you let me--Christ! Why won't you let me touch you? Why can't you--oh, Mother of God...."

He was thrusting mindlessly into that hot slick welcoming throat, he didn't want to come like this, he wanted to, God, he wanted to-- With a strangled cry in his native language, Alex came, pouring it out in hard shudders and feeling Mulder drink him greedily, taking something he hadn't wanted to give yet.

It was a surprise, a few minutes later, to realize that Mulder had gotten out of bed and gone to the bathroom. When he heard the shower running, the contentment he had felt turned bitter inside him and made him want to vomit. It made him fight the happy laxness of his muscles, get out of bed, and strap on the hateful prosthesis with its dead weight. Then he began yanking open drawers, shoving his things into his duffle bag. He had gotten both feet into his briefs when Mulder emerged with dripping hair, wrapped in a towel.

"Alex--"

"You bastard." Alex spoke quietly, flatly. He yanked his briefs up to his waist. "I hate it when you do that. I hate it when you give me what I need and won't let me give you anything. I could kill you when you do that."

Mulder's eyes gleamed behind Alex, in the mirror. "You could have killed me plenty of times."

"Yeah, well, I didn't. I love you. Have you noticed that? I may not send you Hallmark cards, I may not say it every day, but I love you, you son of a bitch. And you're so fucking scared of it you won't accept what I need to give."

Mulder walked away, pulling off the towel, and vanished into the bathroom again. Grinding his teeth, Alex grabbed his jeans off the floor and sat down on the bed to begin the laborious process of pulling them on. Better not to have an audience for this, but Mulder came back while he was still working the jeans up his thighs.

Mulder reached for the waistband, to help, and Alex swatted at him viciously. "Don't you dare," he hissed.

"Alex--"

"What can you say? What can you say to make it better before you have to go?" Alex squeezed his eyes shut against the tears he couldn't believe he felt. Only Mulder could do this to him. "Go put on your FBI suit and catch your fucking plane."

A hand cupped his clenched jaw. He yanked his head away from the tenderness. Mulder stood up.

"Fine, then. Be that way." He started getting dressed, fairly throwing on his clothes. Alex snorted.

"Christ, Mulder, you sound like a child. You're acting like a child. I hate that."

Mulder turned. He was knotting his tie with swift, furiously precise gestures. "You tell me you love me, but then you keep telling me what you hate about me. What do I believe? I risk my career, everything that matters, every time I meet you. We fuck in cheap hotels, and then half the time, you vanish. This time I get to leave first, and you can't stand it. Why should I believe you love me? Why should I believe a professional liar, a murderer, an enemy? Why should I love you, or want you to love me?"

Mulder's voice caught in his throat. Sighing, Alex went to him, touched the tight knot of silk with one finger. "Because I'm the only person you think you deserve to have love you. A liar, a murderer, your enemy."

Mulder was silent. It was light enough now to see on his face the sadness that never quite went away, that Alex wished he could make go away. After a moment Alex kissed the other man lightly, turned away, and began putting on his shirt.

"When can I see you again?" he asked into the silence. He hated to ask, but he knew he had to be the one to do it. He turned around, and Mulder was stepping into his shoes.

"Maybe around Christmas." The older man's voice seemed to come from far away. Alex struggled with his sweater, hoping it would wipe the tears away as it slid past his face.

"I'll contact you." He stepped into his own shoes, picked up his duffel bag, and brushed past Mulder to get his jacket from the closet.

Suddenly Mulder spun him around, grabbed him, kissed him hard. Shaking, Alex dropped the bag and returned the embrace as best he could, hanging on to the back of Mulder's neck with his one good hand as he tried to give, through the kiss, what he couldn't give otherwise. Mulder tore his mouth away and kissed Alex's ear and his neck, still holding him.

"I'm sorry. Alex, I'm sorry--"

"You'd better go," Alex said tightly. "It'll be dawn soon."

*********

end


End file.
